The Potrait of Ciel Phantomhive
by Lucille16
Summary: Summary: An estate in London is known to be hunted for within it everything is in ruin, all except a portrait of a servant and master which hung in perfect condition amidst all the decay.
1. Chapter 1

The Portrait of Ciel Phantomhive

Summary: An estate in London is known to be hunted for within it everything is in ruin, all except a portrait of a servant and master which hung in perfect condition amidst all the decay.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and the spine of the plot's by Oscar Wilde (yes, Dorian Gray)

The moss grew thick on the darkened marble which lay around the ruins. Rain fell and a fog shrouded the whole estate. The wild plants grew in more and more crevices. The gates of wiry black were rusted and delicate; a touch would have turned them into powder. People occasionally looked, the young children clutched on to their mothers while the adults seemed to canter rather than walk past. Those who knew never came. It was a haunted place filled with memories as thick as the fog that formed around the deserted lot. The garden was over-grown and the trees were often leafless. Never green but of a dreary ash-like gray, the same color the inner foundations took when the all consuming fire came. All of them were silent watchers on the many tragic happenings that had marked that place since the beginning.

The silence there always talked. It was impregnable, heavy and was filled with enigma. The leaves rustled but only in whispers. The water accumulated by the fountain and by the small pond took the falling drops of rain and cushioned their plops. They were still after the rain. The water mirrored the destruction which the rain can never wash away.

It was as if a glass globe had been placed upon that site. A burden that quieted everything so that no bird would sing and no creature call.

"_The piece that can never be saved will always be the king."_

The walls still stood but suffered many cracks both from that day and from the following ones. The plants were in a hurry to grow so that they may crumble the dark edifice that served as nothing but an illusion. The rain constantly tried to wash the darkness away from the broken wooden supports and the thickened soot on the cemented walls but never could. It was the mansion's blood stain- it cannot be rid of.

The mansion was obviously not burned to the ground and one of the few stubborn structures that survived was the grand staircase which used to face the front door. The second floor was an unrecognizable pile of stone but the stairs that lead to it though chipped and stained still stood continuously supporting the wall of the landing it lead to. The carpet that crawled from the door to the stairs was of a murky color and was filled with moss- decaying because of the environment around it. The drapes still hung though they were partly burned and extremely tattered, delicate as they danced to the silent breeze called upon by the rain. The banisters were almost gone and the pillars that supported them were cracked and fading. The room was dreary as was the whole place and everything spoke of the decaying past. It was a monochrome of blacks and grays as the story was, one of dying and death. Everything was an epitome of loss and at the center of it all, mounted upon the great wall the staircase supported, was a portrait of the one who had suffered and had caused such losses. He sat there immortal in his youth and beauty- overflowing with arrogance which masked his pain and knowledge of what was to come. Behind him stood his means his gloved hand at his chest and an incomprehensible smile on his lips.

"_That is why I faced the inevitable- I would never be mated, even by you."_

The boy sat kinglike with his pale beautiful face tilted upwards. His Sapphire eyes glowed with determination and strength casting its own color into the dark hall. His soft hair framed his young face and covered the patch of black on his left eye. A chessboard lay on the golden table that was positioned to the right of his golden velvet-cushioned throne. Its pieces lay in chaos on the floor and upon the table all the pieces but one, the black king- this he held in his porcelain hand. The young lord was dressed handsomely with lace and velvet. He wore a crimson suit and lace on his neck, fine leather shoes with golden buckles. His right hand held a small cane which had a handle of gold in the shape of a skull; he held it with an air of defiance no one could comprehend.

As for the servant he was dressed in his black attire with the chain of a pocket watch visible at his side. His dark hair made his eyes, which were of the color of rubies, noticeable or predatory as he kept them on his young master. His eyes, they told of more than confidence, they boasted of a silent power and of possession- if one would stare at the portrait, on his eyes, for long it would make one wonder who really held dominion of the two.

"_You are my servant and you are to obey my orders"_

"_Of course, my lord"_

……_.._

"_It is time all debts shall be paid, after this roles shall be reversed"_

"_As is the contract, My Lord"_

"_But will you still be with me? If I had no power over you anymore…"_

"_As long as you are marked mine, Young Master, you will never be rid of me…"_

Behind them both a scarlet curtain of velvet was draped it was stitched at the edges with a gold thread which curled into intricate designs one could not decipher but may be amazed of.

"_This painting tells of a story that none could tell at a child's bedside." _ A woman dressed in black stood in the middle of the ruin. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun but some wavy wisps of it fell on her cheeks. The wind blew and she closed her emerald eyes listening to the silence that suppressed all within the estate.

"_I hope you rest in peace cousin- it is only now that I understand the life you lived…"_

In the emptied hall a young boy stood. Finely dressed in an evergreen suit and behind him a man dressed in the refined clothes of a butler. They stood and watched as the woman's figure disappeared in the thick December fog.

The boy turned both eyes now glowing. One still Sapphire while the other Amethyst and marked.

"_Sebastian, you know that in chess the king maybe captured but can never be eaten correct?"_

The servant smiled enigmatically and auburn turned red.

"_Of course, Young Master._

The young boy smiled and turned to the portrait, the other doing the same and in a moment the hall was empty once more.

Author's Note: I was nuts when I made this but please review. I've only checked it once so forgive the errors (I tried to make it as grammatically correct as possible). Thank you those who reviewed the poem I posted- I was crazy then too.


	2. author's note

Author's note:

For some odd reason I can't seem to put any chapter after this story. A fact I'm very sorry for but for the sake of something I still don't realize I posted its sequel as a story on its own. Allusions will be made to this story from there. I'm sorry for my odd fickle-mindedness or whatever you call it. Please visit Memento Mori: refrain- for the rest of this story.


End file.
